Orphan
by Keolah
Summary: A young Withiki finds himself hated because of the color of his wings.


Sillita of the Clan Whitewind was taking a leisurely stroll along the pristine stream that flowed past her town. As she walked, she thought about her two eggs that were incubating back at home. She considered what to name them, and that she would have to hire a couple new servants to help take care of the house, now that her family would be larger.

As she walked, she came along to a quiet, shadowy part of the stream. She pulled away a branch to clear her path, and noticed in surprise that there was an egg nestled between rocks and leaves hidden here. Blinking in confusion, she bent down to pick up the large, white Withki egg.

"That's strange. Who would abandon an egg out here like this?" Sillita murmured to herself as she looked it over.

Still puzzling over the mystery of the egg, Sillita carried it back to her house. She placed it next to her other two eggs, and looked over them warmly.

"Surely some Whitewind who didn't want a child left it there. I will take care of it and raise it as my own."

The months passed, and Sillita cared for the egg as she did her two natural children, then finally came the day of hatching. With joy she watched as the first two eggs hatched, and a tiny boy and girl shook out their glistening white wings. Then, slowly, the third egg cracked, and the tiny hatchling emerged. With a small peep, he spread his bright red wings and crawled out.

Sillita gasped as she saw her adopted son hatch. "Redwing!" she whispered in horror. Her mind spun. "Why would a Redwing leave her egg near a Whitewind town?"

Carefully, she took the crooning Redwing chick up in her arms, cleaning him off. "Well, I can't hardly abandon you or kill you or something," she whispered. The baby boy looked up at her with liquid blue eyes.

After some thinking, she said, "I shall dye your feathers white, that none may know what you really are." With that, she held him still and dyed his bright red wings, making them appear snowy white.

She named the child Hisir, and raised him as her own, with her son and daughter. Yet even as she tried to treat him like the others, Hisir still got the impression that he was somehow different, but never really knew why. He grew up with the ways of his mother, peaceful and compassionate, yet that strange feeling always haunted him.

Hisir learned to fly alongside his siblings when he came of age, and proved stronger and faster than them. He laughed as he raced them and won nearly every time, for he loved showing off. Wanting his mother to be proud of him, and prove himself against the unspoken feelings, he pushed himself to his limits.

When Hisir was twelve years old, he was up by the lake with some other youngsters. They were having fun competing with one another in racing, archery, and wrestling. Hisir was eager to pit himself against his friends, and the couple adults watching chuckled at the boys' antics. They'd been away from town for several weeks, and the games were just heating up.

Then, as Hisir was wrestling with another boy in midair above the lake, the boy knocked him off balance, and Hisir went falling into the lake. Hisir wasn't too concerned, as he could swim, although he was irritated at losing.

As he swum back to shore, he saw others were staring at him strangely, and he reassured them, "It's ok, I'm alright."

One of the boys screamed and ran away. "Redwing!" another yelled and pointed at him. Hisir looked around in confusion as he pulled himself out of water. But as he went to shake the water out of his wings, he looked and saw white streaks were dripping from it, and bright red showed beneath.

"What the..." Hisir stared at his wing in shock and horror. He was a Redwing? "I'm not going to hurt you!" he cried. "It's just me, Hisir!"

"Redwing spy!" one of the adults snarled at him. "We don't want your kind here. Begone, or I will make sure you never surface from that lake again."

Afraid and stunned, Hisir took to flight, away from the lake, and went as fast as his wings could carry him. After a while, he stopped and landed on a hilltop, and wondered what he was going to do. "I can't go home," he murmured. "If somebody sees me, they'll try to kill me. Oh mother..."

As the sky grew dark, he stared up at the stars, and realized suddenly why he had always felt somewhat out of place. "Mother knew," he whispered. "She always put that strange stuff on my wings, but I never knew why or what it was for." Hisir sat and thought for a while, "Perhaps I can sneak back into the village under the cover of night, so that they don't see me and catch me."

It was the only thing he could really think of to do, for he had nowhere else to go, and knew he could never stand being in a Redwing town. With that, he took to flight, and headed silently and quickly toward his home. Evading the sentries, he arrived at his house, and slipped into his mother's bedchamber. She was asleep, but a light touch on the shoulder woke her.

Sillita blinked and looked up, recognizing her son's face in the dark. "Oh, Hisir, what happened? You weren't supposed to get back for another week." She reached over and lit a candle and then saw his wings. "Oh my. They saw?"

Hisir nodded slowly. "You have to get out of here," she murmured. Sillita pulled out the dye and began to conceal the redness of his feathers once again. "Once they return, it won't be safe here for you."

"Where am I to go?" he murmured. "There's nowhere for me. I have no true home."

"This dye lasts a long time, provided you don't get it too wet," she told him. "Even so, it'll hold up against water if you put it on frequently."

As she finished, he hung his head and drooped his wings, and stared out over the village from the balcony. "Mother... Why didn't you tell me?"

"I always meant to tell you on your fourteenth birthday," Sillita said, walking up behind him and placing her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry this happened." She sighed.

"Mother," Hisir turned and looked at her. "Where can I go?"

"I don't know, my son," she looked off at the stars. "Perhaps we should go as well. If they know who you were, they might trace it back to me and your siblings." She frowned thoughtfully. "I want you to fly to Kelenya, and quickly. We will follow once we get packed and ready. You can find a place to stay there temporarily." She pressed a money pouch into his hand.

"Alright," he said, and hugged her. "I love you, Mother."

"Take care, son."

With that, he took to flight, and streaked across the starry sky. It took him several days to reach the city of Kelenya, and when he arrived, he was almost overwhelmed at its vastness. The Withiki there were primarily Greyfeathers, although a smattering of other clans meandered here and there. Not only that, but there were strange, wingless aliens there as well. He didn't know what they were called, but he saw one with brown skin and a ridged forehead, and one with enormous ears, and others. He asked around for a place to stay, and was directed toward a large inn in the northern part of town.

The Northstar Inn's prices were reasonable, but the place was clean and well-kept as the rest of the city. Hisir put down a few coins, and stayed there for several days. During the day, he'd explore the city, and at night he'd sleep in the safety of the Northstar Inn. Waiting for his family to arrive, he became very lonely, and tried to acquaint himself with the townspeople. But their reception was cold if anything. And the big-eared alien kept trying to sell him things.

For a long time he stayed there, watching and waiting for any sign of his family. But the northern winds were silent and chill, and no word came. He worried about them, and wondered what became of them. Finally he could take it no longer, and flew off back toward the village, toward his home.

Arriving in town, he swept in and landed upon the roof of the house he grew up in, and peered inside. It was dark, and silent. Perhaps they had left after all. But then he looked around the house, and found his family's possessions neatly laid out on tables. On the front door, he saw a sign that read, "Auction - Tomorrow at noon."

His mind whirled and he sat down hard on the floor. "Mother..." he whispered. Standing up, he rushed to the roof and took off, flying fast and hard, sorrow and anger clenching his heart. "Why... Why..." he cried to the uncaring winds.

Twice an orphan, Hisir flew off as far from his home as he could, not caring where he ended up. The winds took him far from the regions the Withiki called their home, as he took a space on an alien ship and left this cold world far behind. The aliens would not care what color his wings were.


End file.
